


Of Bronze—and Blaze

by middlemarch



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, House of Dreams, Romance, bride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne and Gilbert have a necessary conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bronze—and Blaze

“Anne, you’re trembling,” Gilbert said. 

He held her in his arms, her glorious red hair all tumbled down around her shoulders, in the generous window-seat of their bedroom. It seemed only moments had passed since Captain Jim, his aunt and uncle, had finally all bid them good-night and walked down the lane, since he’d taken his bride’s hand in the fragrant garden, only letting it go for her to bend and pick first this flower, then another. The nosegay she’d made sat in a little glass vase beside the soft, wide bed that beckoned; she’d brought the night and the sweet scent of the beach-plum blossom, the spice of the poppies, into their room. The window was open and an errant breeze played about her bared shoulders, where her wrap had slipped under his inquisitive hands. Gilbert thought he would remember this all his life, this room with this woman, elusive, enchanting Anne finally his, and the many-paned window open to moonlight and salt and poppies. In only a few months, the window would be latched tight against winter’s white squalls, lamplight, Anne snug and content in the downy bed, her bright hair a second sunset every day. But now he must worry and make sure nothing troubled her.

“Oh Gil, I see right away you are diagnosing me, aren’t you? Not with cold feet, certainly, but do you think I am a fearful virgin, shaking in terror, Dr. Blythe?” she teased. He could not have imagined this but it was what he wanted, Anne entirely herself, still fanciful and articulate. He wished though, just a little, that she’d be so swept away she’d only have drawn him back down to her with an eager hand, a desirous sigh he’d never yet heard.

“I only want to make sure you’re happy,” he said simply. 

How bright her grey eyes were, how red her sweet mouth was from his kisses! He could hardly look away and he saw she knew it, was so very glad of it.

“I am, though it seems such a small word for how I feel now, here with you, alone with only the wind and the moon,” Anne said. 

She could never say anything without poetry in it, he thought, and who would have thought that was all Gilbert Blythe, that studious, practical young physician, held as his heart’s desire? Still, he felt a fine shudder through her as he shifted a little, pulled her even closer with only her muslin nightgown, his loosened shirt between her heart beating and his, and his beating only for her. She was warm and beautiful, his wife, half-fairy and wholly woman.

“Is that all, my Anne-girl? Only, this is so new for us both and I can’t imagine what Marilla would have said before you left,” he trailed off. 

She had joked about it but what could this love-making be to her? He would rather never touch her again than make her afraid of him or hurt her, but what could she expect beyond the tender kisses and chastely affectionate embraces they’d already shared? His own gruff father had not been much help but at least he was himself a physician trained, a young man among young men who needn’t be and often weren’t so circumspect. Who did Anne have to advise her on this great alteration between them?

“Marilla gave me her blessing and told me she’d pray for us, that we should be blessed all our days and that the Lord would watch over us. Is that what you mean?” Anne paused and gave him a little saucy smile that he loved. 

“I think it’s not. But darling Diana was more forth-coming, quite encouraging really, while Marilla and Mrs. Lynde entertained the children and I believe all the fussing with my veil concealed our conversation very well. You needn’t worry about me so, Gil, I’m sure what you have to teach me will be a lesson I am most eager to learn,” and here she stretched and laid her lips against his bare throat. He felt his pulse leap at her innocent caress though as he looked into her smoky grey eyes, he wondered if innocent was the most correct word—nymph, he thought, and sibyl and siren and laughed a little at what his wedding had made of him, the romantic husband Anne had dreamt of.

“And after all, that’s why we have only the moon and that sprinkling of stars to light us, isn’t it? So we may be a little shy together, the evening’s shadows drawn around us, properly improper?” she suggested, her lashes demurely lowered. 

He saw how deeply she blushed, her cheeks rosy but also her slender neck, the delicate, fair skin her nightdress revealed where he’d untied the blue ribbon. Not such a siren then, but there was such promise in her eyes, the soft way she moved along with him, the impish glee in her teasing. He pressed close against her, tracing the curve of her cheek, her full lower lip, then moved so he might murmur in her ear after he’d brushed back the fiery auburn hair that had first attracted his attention.

“If it takes the moonlight to make a proper beginning for you, my lovely, shy Queen Anne, then you shall have it-- I’ll wait for it to touch you first before I ever lift my hand. But I hope, oh, I hope to be so improper with you in the morning that we make the sun blush with how bold you’ve become,” and Gilbert heard her indrawn breath, felt her turn towards him, not merely accepting but seeking him even if she didn’t understand how much joy he meant to bring her; he knew he’d made this last vow most properly of all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is a little something to fill in that first night. Although they seem happy, their wedding sounds exhausting, involving a train trip right after the ceremony and then entertaining relatives and Captain Jim before they are finally, finally alone. I wondered who might have given Anne an idea of what to expect of marital bliss (ahem!) and who better than her bosom friend, Diana, to assuage any fears. Gilbert's flights of poesy, which are not totally in keeping with his voice in the books, is attributed to being a bridegroom :)
> 
> The title is from Emily Dickinson.


End file.
